Session 5 (9/9 – 8.25 a.m.):
It begins with a dream
he’s had bad dreams before, but this one is in a class of its own
he’s on a river-boat, travelling on some interminable, ill-defined canal
there don’t seem to be any locks or gates
anything much to do
except steer
& watch the horizon for minute signs of variation
The strange thing is that he’s arrived here
woken up here
with a complete set of memories
he can see himself killing the girl
plunging the fork into her cheek
that’s the nasty part, the shock going up his arm
the realization that it’s just like carving meat
two-tined fork in the turkey
the complex of associations as the blood comes spurting out
Why did he kill her?
that’s less clear
they’d been travelling together, on the run
from somewhere, someone, something
did she betray him, piss him off?
both?
in any case, he left her body in the car
set it on fire with a rag stuffed in the petrol tank
then headed off across country
he must have lucked onto the boat
He feels quite desperate, that’s the thing
it doesn’t seem like a dream-world at all
no kaleidoscopic whirl of images & scenes
it feels concrete & exact
the selective nature of his memory is, in a sense, absurd
but it doesn’t alter the fact that he’s here
on this low-slung gypsy barge
that he’s a murderer
that they’re going to catch up with him
that when they do he’ll be dead
The last thing he sees is a hill looming ahead
dark & rocky & overhanging the river
the canal’s carved through its lower flanks
are they waiting for him there?
he guesses they are
can see them lying behind a stone
crooking their rifles
ready to wing him
take him down
dark soldiers of fortune
vigilantes, hunters
Did the alarm go off then?
he wakes with the shock of the new-born
like a water-breathing organism thrust suddenly into air
the last image he retains is the boat’s white side
the name painted there in ragged black letters
that strange, foreign name
L’Atalante
Session 6 (10/9 – 9.32 a.m.):
– It’s the name of a film, you must remember that
– No, I don’t, actually
– French film, 1930s, people drifting around on a river boat
some sort of love story
set just before the war, kind of idyllic, tragic-comic
you must have seen it somewhere, blanked it out
– A French film from the thirties? I think I’d remember that
– Maybe somebody told you about it
maybe you read it somewhere
who knows? In any case, that explains at least part of the dream
He doesn’t care to reveal the detail about the fork
no doubt there’ll be as little trouble with that
a shortlist of films with fork-stabbing scenes
learned disquisition on pop-cultural clichés
he can’t explain
though he keeps trying to
the extent to which this dream differs from all his others
the reality of it
the strange concrete precision of its details
Break-time’s over, back to the trenches
the students are sitting there ready for him
all except Jin-Soo, so often late these days
late because clumsily wooing
one of the girls from the beginners’ class
in any case
time & tide wait for no man
– Who can give me a good example of a proverb, a saying?
Helen? Hae-Yung?
– a stitch in time safe nine
– a stitch in time saves nine
& what does that mean?
& so they’re off
Session 7 (11/9 – 8.15 a.m.):
That afternoon
walking back from school
the subtle sense of wrongness
no – flimsiness, provisionality
that’s been dogging him all day, is reconfirmed
He likes to walk fast
faster than the other pedestrians
– Almost as if you hope you can avoid it if you walk fast enough
Denise had commented
Denise with whom he’d walked so often
– Avoid what? he’d asked, playing straight man as usual
– Avoid whatever it is you’re so anxious to get away from
she’d replied
before going on to denounce his tendency to reply with questions
the lack of trust & openness that showed
Maintaining this pace
means constantly trying to gauge the intentions
of the people walking in front of him
guessing if they’ll veer left or right
calculating the trajectory that’ll get him past them
with minimum derangement
The couple in front looks familiar
as if he knew them in a former life
They’re dressed in white
strange shimmer of silvery hues
the details just a little too far off to be made out
the woman’s blonde
with close-cropped, boyish hair
walking past them on the far edge of the curb
he detects a movement out of the corner of his eye
turning, a moment, he sees her face
the face of the woman in his dream
Session 9 (14/9 – 8.37 a.m.):
– Are you okay?
the voice comes into focus
with the rest of his surroundings
black to red to green to blinding dazzle
he opens his eyes, revealing them to the sun
there’s something gritty under his back
blue & white & yellow
his head is tilted back
he doesn’t appear to be wearing … anything
he’s on a beach
Looking up, he half expects to see the girl
that blonde metallic girl
but it isn’t her
the face leaning over his is dark
dark hair, bronze sun-tanned skin
it seems to hold concern for him
her voice sounds earnest
Nausicäa, he thinks
I’m on that beach
Odysseus, washed up by the sea
tired out by battling waves along the rock-bound coast
but Odysseus burst out on the princess & her waiting-women
as they washed their clothes in the river
holding a bush to hide his private parts
he didn’t come to
like this, naked, alone
wake up all alone in this burning salt world
– Where am I? he croaks
all the clichés here, he thinks
the next thing I’ll be asking to be taken to her leader
or she’ll be giving me instructions
on how to reach the royal halls unchallenged
she has a bottle in her hand
a ribbed bottle of mineral water
so much for that theory
Nausicäa would hardly be drinking H2Go
she squeezes a little of it on his lips
then, as they come apart
quite painfully
once more this isn’t dreamlike
but wholly physical
rough, harsh
full of rips & pains & tears
a trickle of liquid goes down his throat
He hawks & coughs
she moves to prop him up as he spits out phlegm
ugh gross
a part of him is yammering
nagging away as usual
but somehow distantly
less urgently than it has done for many days
Now that he’s sitting up, he looks around him
nothing very identifiable
sand, trees, rocks, a headland
your standard perfect beach
there are no other people on it
the girl is still behind him, propping him
what is she wearing?
something muumuu-like
her hair is loose & shoulder-length
He tries again:
– What’s your name?
– Annie
– Have I been here long?
– I don’t know
I just came down & found you
maybe ten minutes, quarter of an hour
I usually go for a morning swim
I don’t think I’ve seen you here before
– And where is here?
– Bethells
A strange thing happens when he hears the name
he knows it
of that he’s sure
but somehow the information accompanying it
won’t come
is it a place he’s heard of? been to?
dreamed of, perhaps?
it’s not like
Tir-nan-og, Atlantis, Avalon
he knows he’ll recognize it if only
if only what?
if only he can remember more about himself
Curious
he can still visualize the riverboat dream
the day at school
the couple on the street
but nothing else
no name, address
age, weight, height, nationality
this girl is real
the beach is real
& he’s right here
the rest has faded
that guy, the other teacher
he’d be able to explain it easily
he’d say, what a cliché, what a cheesey soap-opera trick
Amnesia
you cannot be serious
but he is
somehow, he is
Session 12 (17/9 – 7.12 a.m.):
He’s been expecting the whole thing to fade away
that he’ll come to with a start
snap out of it
or into it, whatever
but nothing happens
he keeps on lying there
Having checked he has no clothes
no possessions
left in a little pile above the tideline
Annie drapes him in her towel
– You’d better come back with me
he doesn’t welcome it, exactly
too dazed for that, disoriented
but it certainly seems the best thing to do
to get out of this burning sun
shield his rapidly reddening skin
get washed up, fed
the other things she keeps on promising him
as they make their slow way along the dusty road up the hill
Once they get there
& he’s had a cold shower
& got dressed in some fairly unisex
though far too small
overalls & t-shirt
they sit down to scrambled eggs
Now why do I remember those?
he wonders
why’s that name still there
still ready to be accessed?
tossed salad & scrambled eggs
he eats them before noticing he still knows how
knows how to butter toast
spear the mushrooms on his fork
he can eat like a human being, not a beast
still has some social graces
but he doesn’t know where he is
why he was there on the beach
knows no-one in the world except some people at that school
those faces in the street
& now, Annie
– Look, I’ve got to go to work
I can come back at lunchtime, though
I’m really sorry, but I’m late already
he said he’d fire me if I was late again
he nods to show he understands
that’s another thing I know
what gestures to make
he understands, firing, too, & jobs
– There’s books in there, some magazines
or maybe you’d prefer a nap
you’ll be okay
she couches it as a statement
but he can feel a question lurking
– I’ll be okay, he says
what kind of a world is this, he thinks
where a woman can find a naked stranger on a beach
take him back to her little house
then go away
leaving him the run of the place?
a better world than the one I was living in
the fork, the dream, the students
that little backstreet flat
A good place, not a million miles away
just a twist in the air perhaps
a brief trek over the hills
turn through the tunnel
Having ascertained he can still read
he begins to look through the heaps
of books & magazines
at the far end of the room
Annie’s library is a curious one
below a layer of garish paperbacks
The Third Eye
A Separate Reality
lie some solider, older hardbacks
mostly warped by damp
ranging from psychology textbooks to ghost stories
the magazines, he’s surprised to see
are mostly soft-porn
nothing hardcore, but plenty of “couples magazines”
with tasteful nudes & spicy experiences
he’s getting really engrossed in a story about a mother
seducing her daughter’s lover
when he hears approaching feet
The feet come first
crunch crunch on the loose gravel
then the loud knock
then the voice
– Annie, you there?
a man’s voice, loud & booming
How can he not know she’s at work?
he thinks, reluctant to field questions
subject himself to scrutiny
– Annie?
the voice is closer
under the window
the footsteps start to circle the house
he hopes devoutly the door is locked
– Ah gidday
I was looking for Annie, you know
the gennie’s gone bust again
I didn’t know she had company
or I’d a knocked some more before coming busting in
a pause
it’s evident something’s expected at this point
– She’s gone to work
A couple of hours ago
She said she’d be back for lunch
– Lunch, eh? That can’t be too far off
you don’t mind if I wait?
there’s a couple of things I got to talk over with her, ya know
& I was kind of counting on catching up with her this morning
maybe you can rustle us up a cup of tea?
No I’d prefer to be left alone
hardly seems a possible reply
& before long he finds himself searching through cupboards
trying to find the makings of a pot of tea
the kitchen, like the rest of this house
is a little dilapidated & overgrown
with odd utensils & drifts of packages
but contains a reasonable supply of fresh milk
bread, biscuits, vegetables
he feels guilty at going through her things like this
but it seems better than the alternative
leaving the neighbour to conduct a search
who is he, anyway? A friend, an older relative?
an uncle, it appears
when tea is poured & conversation resumes
uncle Bill
– Yeah, I guess I’m the only family she’s got left now
now the old fella’s dead
me nephew, too – her brother
you’ve got a bit of a look of him, actually
has she said? I guess she wouldn’t
I dunno if I should tell you, really
but I guess you’ll find out sooner or later
he wasn’t a very happy kid
& it kept on getting worse as he got older
needed constant looking after, cheering up
they had to send him to the hospital in the end
but that wasn’t no good either
& then when they sent him home she had to look after him
Annie was like that, always giving things up for other people
helping out
it got so’s she was the only one he’d talk to , come out to see even
I think he got violent with her sometimes, but she never said
knew that if she let on he’d go back in there
only this time they wouldn’t let him out
so she put up with it
It must have been years
let’s see – at least three years, maybe more
and then he did it
– Did what?
– killed himself
oh, nobody ever proved it wasn’t an accident
but there was lots of pills in his stomach when they found him
maybe he’d mistaken the dose
he was on pills
& Annie was good at making sure he took them
& hiding them away afterwards
the funny thing was, there was nothing missing from the bottles
he must have got the stuff from somewhere else
it was a shame she had to find him
I guess that was one of the worst things about it
she took it pretty hard
– What about her parents?
– both dead by then
Maggie, that was my sister – half-sister, really
but we always treated each other like brother & sister
she went first, when Annie was still at school
her Dad looked after her after that
& I guess he did his best, but it wasn’t the same
Mickey, Michael going off like that almost did for him
though it was the cancer that got him
after that Annie was on her own
but maybe I’m putting you off with all this family talk
are you & her …?
– just friends
how else could one put it?
she found me on the beach this morning
I’ve lost my memory, & maybe I reminded her of her brother
though she didn’t mention that
in fact I didn’t know anything about her until now?
– are you staying here, then?
sorry to be such a nosey parker
but there’s lots of things round here that need fixing up
I’ve been meaning to come down myself & do some repairs
but if you’re here
you’ll be wanting to help out?
– I’m not really sure
I just arrived today
– but you’ll be here a while?
a couple of days, anyway?
– I guess so
Annie, the house, now Bob
seems enough to cope with
now he’s faced with the prospect of finding his way back to town
whatever that town might be
finding his street, his school, his life
& with it, no doubt, his name
responsibilities
perhaps he’s married?
no, he doesn’t feel married
the school, the street, the flat
he gets the impression of isolation
As if chiming in with his train of thought
the old man continues
– & what line of work are you in, yourself?
Annie works in a shop up in the village
I guess you know
we all thought she could have gone on to college
been a teacher, a lawyer, anything
but Mickey did for all that
not that it was his fault, of course, poor lad
– I’m a teacher
so much seems true
at a Language school
– Oh, a teacher, educated man
that’s good, that’s good
you’ll be a bit of reader, then?
I like a good read myself
not novels, biographies, mainly books
about real things that happen
I read a lot about UFOs, that kind of stuff
No answer seems to suggest itself
he does know, vaguely, what a UFO is
though the significance of the word itself escapes him
the old man notices his hesitation
& shifts tack to another line of conversation
– I spose you don’t get much time for reading yourself
with all that marking, watching kids in the playground
I always thought that Annie’d make a good teacher
not that she’s ever had kids, mind you
but she seems to understand them pretty well
better than I ever did anyway
I didn’t really know her too well
till she shifted out here, in fact
just Christmas, that kind of thing
It was only after her Dad & Mickey died
that she gave up living in the city, moved out here
It was cheaper, she said
but I guess the main thing was to get away from it all
all those bad memories
I know a few fellas around here
& I helped her get set up in this little place
he surveys the malodorous dwelling with pride
– Me own place is up over the hill
not too near by, I got sense enough not to crowd her
family’s one thing, but living on top of each other’s another
I come on down maybe once a fortnight, once a week
& sometimes she comes up to see me at my place
it’s a bit more bush than this, mind you
maybe you’ll come up with Annie, check it out?
The old man stays on a bit longer
then, as it becomes increasingly apparent
that Annie will not be back anytime soon
announces he had more errands to run
& buggers off
Left alone in the house
he feels more restless than before
what is he doing here?
how did he get on that beach?
maybe he should just go, walk out
hitchhike to the nearest town
wherever that is
walk around until he sees something familiar
finds a friendly face?
it sounds increasingly flimsy the more he thinks about it
for better or worse, Annie, her house
her circle of acquaintance is his lifeline
letting go of that just now would be insane
she might well kick him out
one could hardly blame her if she did
she clearly has her own stuff to sort out
but at least he can get some leads from her
some clues, some hints about where he is
The book he finally settles down to is a strange one
A Field Guide to the Other World
it claims that eldritch sprits are all around us
but that the forms in which people see them
the writer calls them daimons
lake monsters, yetis, aliens, fairies
are simply a glamour they cast on the eye
we have no way of telling what they are
or even if they really exist
they represent the return of the repressed
Annie is Clara’s friend, the girl in love with pearls
here – innocent, self-sacrificing
sister of mercy
Princesse lointaine – Princess Nausicäa
Session 14 (20/9 – 8.33 a.m.):
– Nope, that’s not it
They’ve borrowed a car from a friend of Annie’s
& are driving up & down the city streets
hoping to jog his memory
nothing looks familiar
so much seems to hinge on that last day
the street, the school, the dream
he’s replayed them so often in his mind
that he’s beginning to fear that’s all they are
just wish-fulfiment dreams
the last spasms of an oxygen-starved mind
Annie is nothing if not ingenious
she starts by trying to make a list
of all the language schools in the city
but there are hundreds of them
and all his suggested clues
the curious Eastern names, the student’s faces
are apparently so common as to be
quite useless
after that they look at maps
trying to spot any likely street configurations
It seems as if they’ve been doing nothing for hours
except cruise down streets
trying to spot strange numbers
names addresses
in the long garish semi-colonial blocks of shops
that fence the city’s outer suburbs
all in all , they’ve had enough
– Time for a coffee, she says
pulling up beside a greengrocer’s
this city lives on fruit & vegetables
seen from its highest point
the skytower
it’s a riot of green trees
lawns, bushes, gardens, golf courses
two doors down is a little sidewalk café
with chairs out in the sun
He gratefully takes a seat
while she goes inside to order
she’s tried him out with money
only to find he can’t read
the denominations on the notes
or even keep track of a simple set of coins
he understands the concept
but the reality has flown away
It’s a Saturday afternoon
& the city is still sleepy
he edges under the umbrella
his sunburn is still causing him
a lot of pain
though Annie’s rubbed him with ointment
a couple of times
she performs such tasks with detached efficiency
as if they were so familiar as to hold
no complications
he felt quite bashful at first
then gave in & meekly accepted her ministrations
He thinks of her increasingly
as a kind efficient older sister
there are no photos in her house
so he can’t tell if he resembles her brother
in any way except his helplessness
but it’s not too hard to guess
that’s part of it
For a while, after she sits down
they stare at each other
– why are you helping me like this?
before she can reply, he continues
– it’s not as if I’m not grateful
it’s just that I don’t quite understand
I mean, you don’t know anything about me
& yet you’ve taken me in, fed me
you’re driving me around … why?
– I guess … you just need help
it seems the least that I can do
– But why you?
why is it your problem?
I think your Uncle Bob
assumed that I was kind of
like your boyfriend
but there’s nothing like that, is there?
– No, of course not
it’s not that
I don’t even think about you that way
I haven’t had a boyfriend for
well, it seems like ages
or a girlfriend either
before you look at me that way
– What way? I don’t understand
– Never mind
that wasn’t really fair
let me ask you a question, then
since we’re being honest with each other
what happens if you find this school
you’re looking for?
what will you do then?
bye Annie, thanks for your all your help
seeya round sometime?
– I don’t know, I just don’t know
but … you do understand, don’t you?
I need to find out who I am
why I was on that beach
what’s happening to me …
– Why do you need to know that stuff?
there’s a lot of bad things in my life
that I’d do anything to just erase, forget
– Yeah, but would you want to give up your life entirely?
have no memory of who you are
what you’d done
in the whole time you’ve been alive
it’s weird
I just can’t describe how it is
every moment I live through now
it’s like I’m alive for the first time
I know what everything is
phones, tables, coffee cups, all that
but I can’t remember any examples
I can’t remember drinking a particular cup of coffee
with a particular person
on a particular day
so far as I’m concerned
this is the first time
I’ve ever sat down in a café & had a conversation
I can’t remember my parents, for God’s sake
I can’t remember my mother’s face!
– I’m sorry
that was really crass of me
it’s just … what if we can’t find it?
what if we do & there’s no one there
who recognises you?
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